SATs and Salt Rounds
by glassesandgoldenbrownhair
Summary: Lauren's life wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible. She lived in a nice community, with her parents, pets and younger brother, and her greatest concerns were her high stress academics. When her two estranged older brothers show up on her doorstep, she realized just how sheltered she had been- and that her path may not be as cookie cutter as she believed.
1. You're a Winchester, Lauren

I thought having older brothers was going to be a lot more fun than this. I had a good life- I was on honor roll, doing a load of activities and yet managing to have a social life. So when my mom and dad told me I had two brothers and a father I never knew, I didn't think it could be that bad. Oh sure, Mom got knocked up while Dad was doing his residency fifteen years ago, but they had worked it out. Plus, while people said I look like a clone of Mom, I was Dad's mirror on the inside.

Being the oldest meant so much responsibility- my entire life I had to carve out a path for my little brother- well, half-brother. I had to make a good impression on teachers, get good grades all so they would have glowing expectations for him. No one ever asked me too, but it was my job as the oldest, and it would be a lie to say I never wished there was someone to chuck the corn field for me. Did I really just think that?

It was a Saturday when they told me- Dad reassuring me he loved me more than life, about to say he loved me more than my brother before I stopped him. Mom told me that my father- my biological father- had passed away when I was three, and my parents had decided to tell me when "the time was right". All that's left of him were my two unknown brothers, who happened to be in town.

"Lauren, we want you to have options." whispered my mom, rubbing my arm as I lay curled up in my bed. My throat was sore and tense from about three hours of nonstop screaming and crying, and a bandage on my hand over where glass cut my hand. You could say I freaked.

"What do you mean, options? What options are there? One day ago I had a dad and now I don't. How is that giving me options?" My tear stained face looked nothing like those of girls in movies- if you hadn't known better you'd have thought I was having an allergic reaction. Remember when I said I took it well? Yeah. I lied.

"You have two brothers who want to meet you. They're family, Lauren." I wiped my eyes and took a few deep breaths- not to calm down, but to reduce the pink puffiness that was my face. We had been going at this for hours, and all I wanted was to get this over with. Probably two lawyers or doctors or students whom I will meet and see at the holidays and that will be all.

"Fine, whatever. I just want some sleep."

Jesus I was nervous. Glancing out of the window, I watched as each car drove by, hoping and dreading it would come to a stop. Yesterday, after I had calmed down and gotten some sleep, Mom told me about my father- that he was strong, brave and had saved her life. From what, I have no idea. As for my "brothers", a little reassurance came with knowing that the younger one, Sam, went to Stanford. My brother- the one I grew up with- thought having a "cousin" who went to his dream school was the coolest thing in the world. Yeah, cousin.

I glanced at my phone, turning it on and off quickly. 8:03, they should be here, I thought. I fiddled with the lace on my dress, the most comforting thing I owned. My hair was in a side braid, feet in moccasins and a locket hang from my neck. I turned back towards the window, and saw a black car out front. Oh god, oh god- my heart began to race and I tried to calm myself through my panic attack. Little did I know that was nothing compared to the panic I would end up facing. I dashed to the family room on the other end of the floor and sat down on the couch. That way I wouldn't have to meet them first. Eh, it was as good of a plan as any.

The door bell rang and my stomach sank, if there were any butterflies in there they were pounding to get out. The door opened and I hear some low voices as well as my mother's. "Lauren? Come on out sweetie!" My mother called. I stood up and slowly walked towards the front door. They couldn't be so bad, could they? I turned the bend and-

"Hiya, I'm Lauren." Two tall guys, one almost Dad's height and the other almost as tall as the huge doorframe smiled back at me. They were dressed similarly- plaid shirts over tees, jeans and boots. The shorter one wore a leather coat and had dirty blond hair, reminding me freakishly of my other-other brother. The taller guy had dark, flowing hair about shoulder length and smiled shyly, while the blond's grin glowed with cockiness.

"I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam." said the leather jacket. I politely smiled back, and shrank back to the corner, leaving the conversation to my uh, family.

"Would you like something to drink?" My mother offered, always the hostess. You don't get to be the President of the PTO for nothing.

"I'll have a beer, thanks," answered Dean. Sam's eyes grew a bit big then reverted to normal.

"Water would be fine," he chided. They all began to walk through the kitchen, where my mother filled up a glass of water and handed Dean a beer from the fridge. Huh. I didn't even know my parents kept beer. He popped the lid off and took a sip before following my mother into the living room. I served as the caboose, slipping into a chair out of the direct line of fire.

"So, why are you two in town?" asked my mother.

"Business," replied Dean.

"What kind of business do you do?" I added. He and my mother looked at each other, before she responded.

"They save people's lives," She prompted.

"Save people's lives? Does this have to do with that accident?" She sighed, then nodded.

"Sweetie, they hunt demons." That was it. My previously sane family was crazy.

"Oh, and you expect me to believe that? Bull." I rolled my eyes, refusing to leave until I got a sane explanation of what was going on.

"Their-your father was a hunter as well. He saved my life from a monster." I raised my eyebrow, refusing to believe it. Alright, in fifth grade I thought I had magical powers but pretty much every kid pretends they do at some point or another. But this? This was nuts.

"I'm sorry, but here's a reality check. Monsters. Do. Not. Exist. Vampires are not real. Zombies are not real. There are some cults and really freaky people out in the world but there are no 'real' monsters. And here you want me to believe that these two men, whom I have never seen before in my life, drive around stabbing vampires in the heart with stakes?"

"Actually, you have to chop their head off. Their heart doesn't work, so stabbing them doesn't make a difference," pitched in Sam, who I was suspecting was the one who went to one of the top universities in the country.

"Look, we get if you don't want to believe us, but it's the truth. And we wouldn't have come here unless it was urgent." My mother's eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you mean, urgent? What's going on?" Sam glanced at Dean, a firm expression on his face.

"Lauren's a Winchester, and being one of us is never a good thing, but especially not now. We're the only ones who can keep her safe. It's time." My mother's face froze, but she nodded.

"Someone tell me what the HELL is going on or I'm 911." My hand gripped my phone, the flesh turning a sickly white with my iron-like grip.

"Lauren, you have to go with your brothers. It's the only way you have a fighting chance. Please sweetheart, I don't want you to get hurt!"

"WHAT? You are expecting me to go with two strangers-"

"Brothers," chimed in Dean.

"-and LEAVE? Are you out of your mind?" I was losing it. My heart rate increased, my skin feeling feverish, and the rolling, twisting sensation of nausea. Oh god, oh god, oh god-


	2. (Not) In Kansas (Anymore)

"Jesus, Cas, I still can't believe you knocked her out." My head felt funny, like it was moving. I heard a motor and opened an eye to see the back of a leather seat. I realized my head was on something- someone- and I yanked my head upwards.

"Mother of God!" I rubbed my head on where it hit the ceiling, my dizziness decreasing.

"God does not have a mother. God is father to us all." I turned and saw a man staring back at me quizzically, wearing a tan trench coat and- a backwards tie? I shook off his words, trying to piece together what happened- I met my brothers, monsters- shit. I leaned forward and saw that the driver was, low and behold, Dean frigging Winchester, and beside him was Sam. I cleared my throat, glancing warily at the odd guy beside me and leaned forward.

"Hey, where are we going? And if the answer is not to my house, I will jump out of this car, regardless how fast we are going." I gritted my teeth, and Dean glanced back at me.

"Morning, sleepyhead. By the way, sorry for that- Cas- well, you grow on him." I turned back to the trench coat guy- who I assumed was Cas- and looked back at Dean.

"Answer my question." I gave the back of his head the stink eye until he turned around, glanced at me, and chuckled.

"Aah, so we are related. As for your question, we're taking you to the bunker. You'll be safe there." My fury bubbled up inside me.

"BUNKER? ARE YOU KIDNAPPING ME? WHAT IS GOING ON?" Cas looked down, and Sam, who I assume was asleep before, woke up, banging his head against the headrest. Dean's jaws tightened, and he swerved the car over to the side of the road. Rotating his full body around to look at me, anger and frustration filled his eyes.

"Look, princess, I know that all of this stuff is new to you and in your eyes we are three strange men taking you away from your home, but I would rather you hate me for the rest of your life than see you die when I could have done something." After waiting for my rebuttal, which was pure silence, he turned back forwards, cranked the radio up, and got back on the road.

"And this is your room," said Dean, as we stood in a rectangular room with no windows and vintage light fixtures. After our argument, for another word, we drove to a diner and got lunch. I picked at my food, so they got it wrapped up for the road. By the time we reached the bunker, the sun was setting. We walked down some steps and entered this submarine-grade door, where a huge lair lay behind it.

The room was basic- bed, desk, nightstand, chair and a dresser. I half smiled, silently wondering where the nearest clothing store was from here.

"And before you ask, your mom packed you." Dean wheeled in my luggage, and I practically ripped the seams apart. My hand flew to my mouth, as on top of my clothes and personal possessions was my "lovie" from when I was little. Next to him was a note, saying, "Call whenever you can. We love you. Mom." My eyes teared up, and I grabbed my sleeping bag from the suitcase and wrapped myself in it, laying on the bed. I slowly rocked myself to sleep.

I woke up at six the next morning, earlier than I would have even on a school day. I put my clothes in the drawers, made my bed and set up my pictures, books- anything I had left from home. Still in my dress, I grabbed one of the towels my mom packed and walked next door to the showers.

I was tired and it was dark, but the hallway felt forever, like a never ending visual echo. Finally I reached the women's room, walked in and was relieved to find there was a shower. Thankfully there were the necessary toiletries, so after I was clean, calm and clothed, I walked into the main room, where Dean was- well, "rocking out" is the only appropriate word, to Asia.

Raising my eyebrows, I walked over to the table where there were a box of doughnuts. Snatching one up, I sat at the table, continuing to glance at my phone. Nothing.

"Mornin'," said Dean, scarfing down a doughnut. I smiled and waved back, setting my phone down on the table. The only rooms in the bunker I knew of were the bathroom, the library-esque room I was in currently, and where I slept the night before. There was a lot I would have to know...

Bucking up my courage, (because asserting oneself to a thirty something guy who easily towers over you and is within arms length reach of handgun isn't as easy as I'd thought,) I cleared my throat and asked what had been at the back of my mind since I had gotten dressed that morning.

"So what about school?" He frowned, crumbs from his doughnut caught in his stubble.

"Yeah, school. Today's Monday, so unless you're planning on driving me back-"

"Your mom can send stuff from your school, and Sam can teach you. Right, Sammy?" Dean asked the younger Winchester, who had apparently entered moments prior. Sam stared back in shock for a minute, before smirking at his brother.

"You're kidding, right?" Dean's eyebrows scrunched.

"Why not? You went to college." He turned his attention back to me, a proud grin on his face. "A Stanford man we've got here, Ren."

"Ren?" I asked, but my question was never answered.

"Dean, I may have graduated from college, but I never got a degree in teaching." His face fell for a moment before continuing. "Lauren needs a professional homeschool teacher at a minimum, but seeing as having someone come to the bunker on a daily basis isn't the best move, we'll have to transfer her to the local high school."

My chest burned, and not from indigestion. Giving the two my steeliest of glares, I barked back, "What?"

Sam was the first to respond, his expression becoming softer, but still firm. It was borderline parental: a look I had received only once before, right before I had the proverbial wind knocked from my lungs. Well twice, if you counted the pleading glances my mother shot me before I had blacked out the day before. "You're going to need to enroll in the local high school."

I laughed, raising my eyebrows at the pair, who stared at me with serious expressions. "Are you shitting me? The two of you have already dragged me from my life, are forcing me to live in a frigging BOMB SHELTER, and now expect me to attend a new school that will probably make the New York City public schools look like Ivys? You're out of your Goddamn minds." I stalked off, frustration and anger at the lack of control in my newfound life driving me to the edge. I entered the first opened door, finding myself in a kitchen. A small television set droned on about a house fire in the background as I splashed my face with faucet water.

"The fire has yet to be reported as arson, but seeing as it took lives of three people, Dr. and Mrs. Weiss as well as their twelve year old son Theo, as well as the manner in which it appeared almost out of thin air, is causing worry throughout the Midwest..." Never had I thought this cliché was true until I felt the blood in my veins run cold, and a lump build in my throat. My eyes stung with tears and before I realized it I was collapsed on the floor, water faucet still on, as I cried out in anguish. My sobs only grew louder as a picture of a family flashed across the television screen.

Mom. Dad. Theo. And me.


End file.
